


Undine

by MoanDiary



Series: Moan Your Way Through Fuckruary [7]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Hot Tub High School, Prompt: Shower, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary
Summary: The scene is terribly brief, but he knows it by heart.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Moan Your Way Through Fuckruary [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626784
Comments: 6
Kudos: 205





	Undine

The scene is terribly brief, but he knows it by heart.

The film’s two burnout protagonists, Ralphie and Steve, catch wind of a house party being hosted by Brett, the rich, entitled bully and captain of the lacrosse team. They sneak into Brett’s backyard before the party’s due to start and hide behind a shed by the pool. Unaware of their presence, Brett’s beautiful and unattainable girlfriend, Kelly—played, of course, by the inimitable young Chloe Decker—steps out of the hot tub, topless, giving the two leering boys and the viewing audience a show.

She smooths back her wet hair in extreme slow motion, eyes closed and head tilted back with an expression of near-orgasmic satisfaction on her face as she rises from the steaming water. Rivulets run down her face, her long neck, her taut abdomen. The camera lovingly tracks an individual droplet from her sternum down to the perfectly pert and rosy tip of one breast. Her hands slide sensuously down her slick sides, wiping off droplets that seem to almost hang in the air, glittering in the sunlight.

Then she wraps a towel around herself, and it’s over.

The camera cuts to the boys’ astounded expressions, and that’s usually where Lucifer manages to pause it before rewinding to watch it again.

But no more, because now he has something even better: Chloe Decker in the flesh.

He hopes she doesn’t notice his preoccupation with convincing her to use his extremely spacious penthouse bathtub. He thinks he’s being subtle enough. The problem is that she always bathes in the morning, and in the morning she’s always on a tight schedule in order to get to work on time.

“Care for a bath this morning, Detective?” he asks muzzily, still half-asleep, as she wiggles free of his embrace to stop the hellish beeping of her alarm. He loathes the bloody thing, but such is the price he’s willing to pay for her company in his bed.

“No way, Lucifer, that thing’s huge; it’ll take forever to fill.” He drags her back playfully and peppers lazy kisses across her shoulders, lazily thrusting his morning wood along the curve of her bottom.

“It can fill in minutes. I have exceptional water pressure.”

She laughs, then disentangles herself and drops a kiss on his cheek before rolling out of bed. “I know you do, hon, that’s why I like taking showers here so much. Besides, who takes a bath in the morning?”

He pouts and she gives him a quizzical look before disappearing into the bathroom.

* * *

It’s months before he manages it. 

They’re on a particularly messy case, one that ends with her tussling with a perp at a garbage dump. She’s tired and sore and _reeks_ of rotting trash, and by the time they get back to his penthouse, it doesn’t take any persuasion at all to convince her to take a nice, relaxing bath.

Lucifer hovers anxiously in his bedroom for a good thirty minutes until he hears the telltale sloshing of the detective shifting in preparation to leave the tub. He tries to put on a casual expression and strolls into the bathroom with a stack of fresh towels in his arms. His timing is perfect, but he barely has the time or the presence of mind to congratulate himself.

She rises out of the tub like Aphrodite being born from the sea, steam curling up from her glistening golden skin, her sharp blue eyes tracking him as he slowly walks towards her, entranced. Water trails down her body in rivulets—down her jaw, to the long column of her neck, to her belly, slightly softened with age and striped with silvery stretch marks. She wrings out her hair, head tilted to the side, her long neck a graceful arc. A droplet of water trails from her sternum down to the rosy, familiar tip of one breast, and he catches it in his mouth before he even realizes that he’s moved, that he’s fallen to his knees before her.

She gasps and cups the back of his head with one wet hand. He gazes up at her, devoted, enthralled, intoxicated.

“Don’t think I didn’t know what you were up to,” she breathes, eyes crinkling with amusement. “I was waiting for you to just up and ask me, but I guess I broke first.”

“Ohh, Kelly,” he rumbles, letting his clipped British-sounding syllables relax into an American drawl. “Brett doesn’t treat you right. He can’t give you what I can.”

“Oh yeah?” she replies haughtily, putting on a familiar exaggerated valley girl accent. “Which is what? Brett’s, like, the most popular guy in school, the captain of the—er—basketball...?”

“Lacrosse,” he corrects under his breath.

“—the captain of the lacrosse team. And you’re just some weirdo who smokes in the parking lot during study hall.”

He kneads her ass with both hands and pulls her even closer, just a bit off balance, forcing her to lean against him as he rubs his stubbled cheek against her damp belly.

“I know what a girl like you needs. Someone to pleasure you until your knees give out. Until you can’t see straight.”

“Oh,” she gasps, a little breathlessly. “And you think you can do that?”

Instead of answering, he licks a meandering path around her navel, catching stray droplets of bathwater along the way, delighting in the jasmine scent of the soap she used combined with a subtle musk that’s purely Chloe.

He’s learned in the past several months that, of the many attributes of this woman worth adoring, her cunt is one of the most exquisite. He pauses to admire it, damp and fresh, hair neatly trimmed, just beginning to moisten in anticipation. The taste of it now, freshly bathed and wet with arousal, is her at her purest. His mouth waters just thinking about it.

He picks up one of her damp thighs and slings it over his shoulder, water soaking into the material of his shirt, gripping her leg with one hand and supporting her back with the other. He noses in between her legs and breathes in the scent of her, letting out a gusty, happy sigh.

He’s about to dig in when she jerks his head back by his hair. She’s flushed and breathing heavily, but she doesn’t seem perturbed. He gives her a puzzled look.

“You can’t tell anyone at school we did this,” she whispers dramatically. He grins, delighted.

“Don’t want anyone finding out the perfect Kelly Jacobs let a burnout like me at her holiest of holies?” he teases. 

“This is a one-time thing.”

“That’s a shame, because I’m very good at multiples.” He raises his eyebrows and finally brings his grinning mouth to her. He licks a long stripe up her folds and her whole body flexes, head falling back.

She makes a choked noise as he sets to work, muffling herself with her hand in a way she never does in his penthouse, doggedly hanging onto the scenario. He moans loudly and she gives his hair a painful tug in retaliation. 

When he slides two fingers inside her to press at her G-spot, the knee she’s balancing on wobbles and threatens to give way, and he catches her, easing her down to sit on his plush bath mat. But when he makes to slide back down between her legs, she catches at his shoulders and pushes him over onto his back. He goes easily, gazing up at her as she looms over him, hair still dripping, mien imperious.

“Changing your tune, hm?” he asks, a little breathless. He adjusts himself surreptitiously, his erection uncomfortable in the tight confinement of his trousers.

She bites her lip and smiles dangerously, eyelids low and sultry. “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to keep you quiet.” Then she swings one leg over him and settles on his face, and there’s not much else he can say.

Her thighs tremble on either side of his head as he gets back to work. From this angle, he can get his tongue much further inside her, and he takes full advantage. Above him, she massages one of her breasts and bites her knuckle as she grinds down onto his face. He moans wantonly at the sight of her— _years_ of fantasizing, _years_ of longing, _finally_ here, _his_. Commanding him, taking pleasure from him, happily _playing_ with him. He wonders idly if he’ll ever stop feeling so stunned by his outrageous good fortune, so certain that it’s all going to come crashing down without warning.

She comes with a cry, loud and unrestrained, hands buried in his hair, juices rushing into his mouth like an overripe peach. He groans, hips shifting restlessly, desperate for some kind of stimulation. 

When the throes of pleasure finally fade, she falls backwards on top of him, writhing languorously like a cat basking in a patch of sunlight, cunt still pressed against his chin. When her eyes finally crack open again, she turns to inspect his tented trousers as if she hadn’t noticed them before.

“Hmm...and I guess you want me to take care of this, too?” she sighs, rolling her eyes. She lifts up one hand to examine a non-existent manicure. He peers down at her as best he can from between her legs.

“It’s only fair,” he replies hopefully, voice sounding strained even to his own ears.

She makes a show of considering it for a long time. “I guess you deserve it.”

She unzips his trousers, and with minimal maneuvering he springs free, rock hard and leaking. The position is less than ideal, with his length pressed awkwardly between her hand and her cheek as she strokes him, but self-respect be damned, he’s so keyed up that it doesn’t make much difference. A choked moan escapes him and he gropes blindly at the soft flesh of her torso to ground himself, gripping her belly with one hand and her breast with the other. His hips roll up in short, desperate thrusts as she tugs on him. She turns her head to place an open-mouthed kiss on his shaft, and his orgasm hits him like a freight train.

He comes back to himself when she rolls off of him and climbs to her feet. She picks up one of the towels he brought with him from the floor and briskly rubs it through her hair before running it over the rest of her body and between her legs. She’s a vision, freshly bathed and still flushed with the distinctive glow of satisfaction. He groans, shifting as his circumstantially vulnerable back begins to protest lying on the hard tile, softening cock still hanging out of his fly, feeling utterly debauched but distinctly less than radiant.

“Bath’s probably still warm,” she says slyly.

He sits up with a sigh, eyeing his damp, rumpled shirt and the mess he made of his trousers, then the alluring, promising sway of her hips as she disappears into the bedroom. “I’ll just take a shower.”


End file.
